Witch-Haven: Book Three of The Conway Chronicles

By Barry Durham

Witch-Haven… a big old Georgian house set deep in the Lancashire countryside that belongs to Doctor Mary Conway - an exceptional young woman who is not only a Doctor of Philosophy, but also an extremely accomplished witch.
She has barely got herself settled in before she offers a home to three half-elf girls and their mother, two trainee witches and a werewolf. Not forgetting the two-hundred-year-old witch who lives in the attic because the house once belonged to her but she went away on holiday for so long that she was declared dead and the house was sold to Dr Conway by her estate!
Oh, and the grounds are tended by a flower elf who just happens to be the father of the half-elf girls.
Then something creeps in through a window in the middle of the night…
Just your everyday country residence really…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781471710278

Book preview

Prologue

In The Last Werewolf, Rozalia Lupuratu, the sole survivor of a group of immigrant werewolves from Transylvania, has lived for seven years with a spectral pack on the fells above the village of Chipping in Lancashire. Then she is finally told by their alpha male that she must find a mate among her own kind.

Using her powers of transformation, she becomes a blue-eyed Husky dog in order to gain the trust and love of a teenage village lad called Thomas Chester.

With the help of Thomas’s cousin Mary Conway (who is not only a powerful witch but has also just completed her doctorate at university) Rosie succeeds in accomplishing the change back into a 16-year-old girl and is accepted by the Chester family.

Unfortunately, Thomas contracts Covid 19 and ends up critically ill in hospital. But Rosie is not prepared to give up on her chosen mate and, with Mary’s help, devises a daring plan to save his life

Elf-Girl begins a few weeks later in the children’s playground in Chipping village when a baby girl is stolen from her pram by an elf who had a brief liaison with her mother. Not understanding that human children grow up very differently to elves, Pinkie Dianthus takes little Tiffany to Fairyland to look after him in his old age. But he soon realises his mistake when she won’t stop crying because she needs feeding and her nappy changing!

He hurriedly returns her to her mother only to be collared by Thomas and Rosie. They hand him over to the police who give him an Official Caution and Mary Conway makes him promise to leave Tiffany and her mother alone.

To get round the edict he uses other elves to kidnap his daughter twice more but each time the love of her friends draws Tiffany back to the human realm. However, because time runs strangely in Fairyland, she returns much older than when she left.

In the meantime, as Thomas gets to grips with being a werewolf, Mary buys herself an old Georgian house which she discovers used to belong to a witch known as ‘Nonnie’ Moss. She renames the house ‘Witch-haven’, and when Tiffany is taken for the third time, just after the Beltane celebrations at her new home, she decides the time has come to sort things out with the elves once and for all.

Witch-Haven picks up the story as Mary settles into her new home and has an unexpected visitor.

Foreword

The summer passed as summers often do in Lancashire – warm and sunny for a few days, then cooler for another few accompanied by that wonderful weatherperson’s phrase, scattered showers. Not that it mattered much to the inhabitants of ‘Witch-Haven’ (as Dr Mary Conway renamed the house) for there was plenty to do. The building may have been kept aired by Nonnie Moss’s unique and not to say unusual heating and air-conditioning system, but it still needed to be cleaned room by room from top to bottom as its population steadily increased. And that cleaning often uncovered minor, and not-so-minor repairs. Mary found she could tackle most of them but called in the services of specialists such as plumbers and electricians where she could not.

Nonnie had already asked if she could move back into the attic as her lawyer had inadvertently had her declared dead when she had disappeared on holiday for several years and, as he had sold the house to Mary, she had found herself with nowhere to live. Of course, Mary had agreed.

In mid May came Jackie Hoskins and her half-elf daughters Tiffany plus seven and Tiffany plus fourteen (who had now decided to be known as Jessica to avoid confusion with her younger self) as well as their half-sister Riley (also a half-elf) as there was simply no room for them in the two-bedroomed terraced house in Preston where Jackie’s mother and her young son Ryan (Jackie’s brother) also lived. They settled into the two bedrooms on the second floor and, with the addition of a partition wall here and an extra window there, turned them into a cosy little flat.

Sixteen-year-old Rosie Lupuratu moved in a few weeks after that when her mate, Thomas Chester, fully returned to school after the Covid restrictions had been largely lifted, to continue studying for his ‘A’ Levels. There was no animosity between them about it; it just seemed a sensible arrangement while they both grew up a bit. And besides the house was not that far away from where the Chesters lived near the centre of Chipping village, and certainly within easy loping distance for a couple of fit young werewolves. Rosie took the bedroom at the back of the house on the first floor. It overlooked a wooded area and the rear window opened up on to a fire escape that would be very convenient on the nights of the full moon.

The two trainee witches, twins Feebee and Daffnee Templeton, turned up in the middle of a thunderstorm one very wet night towards the end of July after a right old ruckus with their father. The worst thing any father of a teenage daughter can do is to forbid her (or both of them in this case) to do anything. It is asking for trouble in the best of times, but when your daughters are learning to become witches, well… All things considered they were quite restrained and the ‘frog’ spell did wear off after a relatively short time. They did patch things up with him after a few weeks, but they never went home and ended up sharing the large middle bedroom on the first floor.

Mary herself chose the master bedroom at the front of the house on the first floor. It had an en suite and three lovely big windows that looked out over the tree-lined drive. (Well, it was her house after all.)

That just left one small bedroom, overlooking the garden on the first floor, for whoever might come to visit…

So, there were plenty of willing hands when it came to getting the interior of the place spic and span, but the one area nobody had to worry about was the garden. That was now the domain of the elf Pinkie Dianthus who had chosen to return with the party who had travelled into Fairyland to rescue young Tiffany, his daughter. He had taken up residence in the hut that was built on to the end of the greenhouse and, using old pallets and bits of wood, had fitted it out with all sorts of genuinely weird and wonderful hand-crafted and recycled furniture. It was a strange place to call home, but he was genuinely proud of it. Pinks, Carnations and Sweet Williams now grew in profusion in the borders of the house, and the lawn… well, that was kept immaculate after Mary bought Pinkie his very own electric ride-on mower and the elf thought he was in heaven (even if it did rain rather more than it did in Fairyland.)

Chapter One

It was the smell that woke Rosie, faint though it was. Insinuating itself into her senses among the many scents that waft through the early hours of a warm late summer night. Her nose twitched as her super-human olfactory receptors went into overdrive. Where had she smelled it before? She searched her memory. Then she had it! It was the smell of home. It was nearly ten years since she had left but the aroma of the old country: the villages, farms, meadows, lakes and forests of the Carpathian Mountains in the central area of Romania combined into something that was unmistakably Transylvania. But how could she smell it here, in the heart of Lancashire? Slowly and carefully, she turned over in bed so that she was facing the open window that led out on to the fire escape and opened one eye the merest slit. Her enhanced eyesight picked out the silhouette against the moonlight: a dark hunched shape perched on the windowsill.

Rosie tensed.

In one swift movement she threw back the covers, leapt out of bed and had transformed into her wolf shape before her paws hit the floor. But however fast she was, she was not fast enough and, as she reached the windowsill, she found it empty. She growled in frustration as she used her wolf-sight to search through the trees a little way beyond her window. A rustling noise alerted her and she looked up. It was there, clinging to the ivy that clung to this side of the house. Two red eyes looked back into her fiery orange ones.

She was just contemplating the best course of action when she heard her bedroom door open and a heartbeat later Jessica, the eldest of the half-elf girls from the flat upstairs and wearing just a pale green vest and shorts, was by her side. Her eyes followed Rosie’s gaze.

What is it? she whispered.

Not sure, Rosie replied in a soft throaty growl.

Do you want me to go after it?

Can you fly?

I’m half-elf not bloody Peter Pan.

Then no; it’ll be gone before you get on to the windowsill.

I am fast though; I could go and fetch my bow?

You still wouldn’t make it.

As they watched, the creature moved across the vines then round the corner of the house.

Dammit! swore Jessica. I think it’s heading for Tiff and Riley’s room. She was out through the door and running up the stairs to the second floor before Rosie had closed her window. She padded after her at a slightly more leisurely pace until a squeal of pain made her speed up. As she was about to enter the small girls’ room, she heard Jessica say: Riley! What have you got in your mouth?

Sitting among her disarrayed blood-spattered covers, the five-year-old looked up, took a deep breath and spat. But instead of just landing on the bedcovers, the reddish-brown substance that had been between the little girl’s teeth flapped about and tried to head for the window. Rosie jumped up and caught it between her own teeth. Then she changed into a girl and delicately removed it.

Huhmm! said Jessica. Forgot your jammys?

Never wear… Oh sorry, said Rosie and with a click of her fingers a quick glamour meant that to all intents and purposes she was wearing a similar outfit to her friend, but in silver-grey.

Jessica put her hands on her hips and addressed her little half-sister. Now Riley, she said, will you please tell us what’s been going on?

At this point Tiffany in the other single bed woke up and blinked. What time is it? she said rubbing her eyes. And what’s with all the lights?

Something just tried to attack Riley, said Jessica.

It did? What?

Dunno, said Riley. Tasted ’orrible though.

Tiffany propped herself up on her elbows and looked at her. Tasted ’orrible? she queried.

The little girl nodded. Dark-coloured flappy thing. Tried to bite me so I bit it back; got a piece of it as well. Flapped off then.

While keeping a tight hold on it, Rosie was inspecting the sample she held in her hand. It was warm and it pulsed.

Do you know what it is? asked Jessica as she peered at it.

Rosie sniffed it. There it was again: the unmistakable aroma of Transylvania.

Well? prompted Jessica.

Rosie turned away from the two younger girls. Bat, she mouthed to Jessica.

Ba… began Jessica and stopped abruptly as Rosie’s finger sealed her lips.

Rosie nodded. Vampire, she mouthed and silenced any further comment from Jessica with a look. We need to tell Mary, she said softly.

Jessica nodded. Okay you two, show’s over, time to go back to sleep, she said to the two little girls.

Can I have a drink of water please? said Riley. I can still taste that ’orrible flappy thing.

Okay, there’s a glass in the bathroom – and you might as well go to the toilet as well while you’re there.

Riley hopped out of bed in her pale blue Peppa Pig pyjamas and trotted to the bathroom next door. She hadn’t been gone more than a few seconds before they heard her call: Jeeessss!

Jessica hurried off to see what was wrong and Rosie followed her as soon as she had shut all the windows in the room.

Oooohhh bugger! said Jessica as Riley hid behind her legs.

Oh bugger indeed, said Rosie.

Sitting propped against the wall and looking very pale was a creature that appeared to be stuck half way between bat and human. It was covered in fine reddish-brown fur and dark red, almost black, blood was oozing on to the floor from a nasty bite wound in an obviously broken arm or wing (it was hard to work out which because its outline kept flickering between the two.) It lifted its head at the sound of people in the room. Help me… it whispered, please. Then its head flopped to one side and it passed out.

Jessica looked at Rosie. I know, said the elf-girl, fetch Mary.

Rosie nodded as Jessica shepherded her little sister back to bed. Then she heard her going down a flight of stairs to where Mary slept in the master bedroom at the front of the house. She stared at the creature for several seconds before picking up a couple of towels that were draped over a rail at the end of the bath and proceeding to try to stem the flow of blood.

You should just let it bloody die, came a voice from behind her.

Can’t do that Nonnie, she said.

Why? Relative of yours?

Don’t be so bloody daft!

Don’t talk to me like that my girl! snapped Nonnie Moss. Despite the warmth of the late summer night she wore a full length pink winceyette nightie.

Then don’t make stupid suggestions, retorted Rosie.

Nonnie was quiet for a few moments then she said: There’s only one way to stop the bleeding and seal up that wound.

And what’s that?

That bit of furry stuff you’ve still got clutched in your hand. The bite little Riley took out of its arm. The old witch chuckled and shook her head. She’s a feisty lass that one and no mistake.

Rosie looked at her hand. It was true; she could feel what she had taken for a curious piece of material still pulsing gently within her closed fist. So what do I do? she asked.

Put it over the wound of course, what else?

Easier said than done, thought Rosie. Would you care to give me a hand?

Not me, said Nonnie with a firm shake of her head. Never helped a vampire in mi life and I don’t intend to start now.

Thanks a bunch! said Rosie.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Mary, wearing yellow silk pyjamas, eased past Nonnie and came into the bathroom. Jess tells me we’ve got a wounded vampire…, she said, and yes, I see we have. Ignoring the blood on the floor, she knelt down beside Rosie and began to remove the towels from the creature’s injured arm. Riley did this? she said in surprise as she unwrapped the last one.

She did, said Rosie. Apparently it tried to bite her but she got her retaliation in first. I’ve got the piece she took out of its arm right here. She held out her fist. It’s been trying to get free ever since I caught it. Shall I let it go? Nonnie said to place it back over the wound.

Did she now? said Mary as she glanced over her shoulder at the old woman who was still standing in the doorway with her arms folded. Nonnie winked.

Let me look at it first.

Rosie carefully loosened her grip on the substance so Mary could inspect it but still kept a firm hold on it nonetheless. Mary peered at it but did not touch it. Eventually she nodded. Might as well let it go. I suspect it will know what to do.

It did. The second Rosie opened her fist completely the piece of flesh flapped out of her hand, shook itself a few times then zeroed in on the wound in the vampire’s arm where it wriggled itself back into place.

The creature groaned and opened its eyes.

It’s all right, said Mary reassuringly. I think we’ve managed to fix your arm, or wing or whaetver it is, but you seem to have lost a lot of blood…

Nonnie let out a derisive snort. Whose? she said.

I don’t think it’s anybody here, said Mary calmly as she pushed herself up off the floor. She looked down at the blood marks on her pyjama trousers. Damn! she said.

Need to get them soaking in cold water, said Nonnie, that’ll stop the blood from fixing itself.

Thank you, Nonnie, I’ll go and change. Do you want to give me your jammys Rosie?

I’m good, said Rosie.

Can’t stain a glamour eh girl? said Nonnie.

Saves time when I have to change in other ways.

Sensible. Now what about your friend? Can’t leave it here.

It can use the spare room, said Mary. Give me a hand will you Rosie?

But as they went to help the wounded creature it suddenly shied away from them and tried to claw at them with its good arm.

Rosie batted its hand away. Nu fi prost! Incercăm doar să vă ajutăm, she said sharply in Romanian.

It regarded her with a puzzled look on its face.

E in regula. Vin si eu din Transilvania, she added.

The puzzled look became a frown – but a somewhat relaxed one

What did you just say? asked Mary.

I told it to stop being daft as we are trying to help it, then, when I saw it understood me, I told it I was also originally from Transylvania.

You sure it isn’t one of your relatives? said Nonnie.

Rosie turned round, anger flaring in her eyes. If all you are going to do is stand there making bloody stupid unhelpful remarks Miss Moss, then I would suggest you just bugger off back to bed and let us get on with helping this injured...

What? retorted Nonnie. What exactly is it Miss Know-it-all?

Rosie took a deep breath to calm herself. Oh I think we all know what it is, said Rosie, or at least we think we suspect we do. But until I can talk to it we don’t actually know for sure. But that doesn’t mean I can’t offer it help when it needs it! Does it?

Nonnie’s attitude softened. No dear it doesn’t, she said quietly. But just you be careful. Both of you. And she took Rosie’s advice and went back to bed.

It was difficult to get the creature on to its feet when it only had one good arm/wing and after a bit of manoeuvring, cursing and moaning, Rosie eventually simply took over and, to the creature’s surprise, picked it up bodily and carried it carefully down the flight of stairs to the room near hers on the first floor. There she laid it gently on the bed and Mary propped it up with some extra pillows which it gratefully sank into while nursing its injured limb.

Mary turned to Rosie. Ask it if it would like a drink of water.

Rosie was about to do so when it replied softly: Yes, please.

So you can speak English, said Mary.

The creature tried to shrug its shoulders but only succeeded in wincing in pain.

Sit still while I get you that drink.

Mary returned a few seconds later and the creature took the glass with its good arm, drained it and handed it back.

Are you hungry? asked Rosie.

Mary frowned. You’re not going to let it...?

No chance, said Rosie, but I did notice something in the fridge which looked like a sangerete, a blood sausage they make in Transylvania.

Mary nodded. The Black Pudding you mean? She paused. You do know who it belongs to don’t you?

No, said Rosie, but I can guess.  Does it matter, if it will help?

I’m not sure Nonnie would agree with you.

I’ll buy her another one tomorrow.

Mary shrugged. On your head be it then.

Rosie turned to the creature. Did you understand what we were talking about?

It nodded.

Would you like to try it?

Yes please.

I’ll go and fetch it, said Mary. You stay here.

As she got up to leave Rosie put her hand on her arm. Could you fetch me a robe or something? she asked. I’m beginning to get a bit chilly. A glamour looks okay but it’s not very substantial, or warm.

Will do, said Mary with a smile. She looked down at her blood-spattered pyjamas. Better change my clothes while I’m at it.

Don’t be too long, said Rosie rubbing her arms, and don’t forget the black pudding.

I won’t, said Mary. She drew Rosie